


i feel so ashamed, wish this was easy

by whatdoiknowx



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Depression, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2019-03-31 03:53:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13966776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatdoiknowx/pseuds/whatdoiknowx
Summary: Dan considers going back on the meds.





	i feel so ashamed, wish this was easy

Dan slowly pulls the duvet off himself, being careful not to wake Phil. He can't sleep. His mind is racing with thoughts, always too many fucking thoughts, and he's given up on even trying to keep up the pretense of falling to sleep like a functional human. 

He grabs one of Phil's jumpers from the floor, then tiptoes out of the room as quietly as possible, because he still has enough room somewhere in his fucked up excuse for a brain to worry about waking Phil. _Because he doesn't want to disturb his sleep,_ he tells himself, to cover up for the fact that he just doesn't want Phil to know his pathetic excuse for a boyfriend can't even handling something as simple as sleeping. 

Phil would hate it if he could hear Dan's thoughts right now, Dan knew. He would chastise him softly, tell him that Dan wasn't pathetic, he was just struggling.

Struggling. Yeah. That was putting it mildly. Sometimes Dan didn't know why Phil even bothered. On better days, when his mind wasn't filled with layers of negative thoughts, a constant demon in his head screaming at the top of its lungs, Dan could understand it. 

Even now, he knew he deserved love. Everyone deserved love. That, he still understood. What he didn't get is why someone would choose _him_ to spend the rest of their life with, why they would burden themselves with that responsibility. He was nothing special. He had nothing important to contribute to the world, no matter how hard he tried to get it right, to put out a message that _mattered_ , a version of himself that was both authentic and made people _care_ about what he had to say.

Dan sinks down on the couch in their living room, resting his head in his hands. _Fuck_. He wasn't supposed to do this anymore, wasn't supposed to let himself get to this place. He was past this. He had told himself he was past this. He had been so much better last year, made himself believe believe that he could truly be _happy_. Whatever the fuck happiness was.

A tear slides down his cheek, and Dan angrily wipes it away. Fuck this shit. He had done the work, done everything he was supposed to do. The healthy eating, the therapy, the hours of _exercise_ , god forbid. And for what? 

The same niggling thought that had been haunting him for the past week slips into his mind again. _The meds_. 

Dan punches the pillow beside him, then buries his head in his hands again. He doesn't want to go back on the meds. He was supposed to be doing better. He wasn't supposed to need them anymore. He had _told_ everyone he didn't need them anymore. 

A short sob escapes, and this time Dan lets the tears fall. This was better than feeling nothing. He doesn't want to feel nothing anymore, that horrible numbness that left him useless and a mere shell of his being. 

Dan is crying full out now, sobs racking through his body. He is vaguely aware of his body shaking, and he wraps his arms around his core to keep himself together, to keep his body from coming apart in pieces. 

He doesn't hear Phil walk up the stairs, doesn't hear him sit down on the couch beside him. Dan only notices his presence when suddenly there are strong arms pulling him into a warm chest, his entire body being held and cradled.

"Shh," Dan hears amid his loud sobs. "It's alright, you're alright." Dan buried deeper into the warm chest, that safe haven that he knows all too well. 

Eventually, his sobs during into sniffles. Embarrassment, shame, and still an overwhelming sadness fill Dan's mind. Dan hiccups and wipes his nose messily against his sleeve. He pulls back from Phil and wraps his arms tightly around his own chest, staring at a spot on the floor.

"Talk to me." Phil's voice is barely above a whisper, like he's scared Dan might bolt any second. Dan doesn't blame him. He hasn't done much talking the past few weeks. He's done a bit, let Phil in a little, but not nearly as much as he's supposed to during times like this. Yet another reason he's such a fuck-up.

Dan shrugs, playing with the end of his - Phil's - jumper sleeve. 

"Dan." Phil's voice is pleading now. 

"I think I need to go back on the meds." He doesn't know why he says it. He had meant to keep that to himself. He doesn't want to go back on anti-depressants. He was supposed to be _better_. He didn't need them anymore.

"Okay," Phil says slowly. 

Dan glances up to meet his eyes, and he sees concern there. He hates it. He hates being the reason Phil worries.

"It's okay if you do. If that's what you want." Phil pauses. "Is that what you want?"

Dan shrugs again. He doesn't know what he wants. He never knows what he wants. 

"Dan, you've got to talk to me," Phil reminds gently, when Dan hasn't said anything for a solid minute. "I'm here for you, I'm always here for you, you know that." 

Dan thinks he knows that. He's trying to remind himself of that, but it's hard right now.

"But I can't help you unless you let me. Tell me what you're thinking." Phil's hand is rubbing comfortingly at his back now. Dan appreciates the touch, the tether to reality.

Dan takes a calming breath, and then another, like he's learned in his therapy sessions, to clear his mind. He was okay. He can talk to Phil. One step at a time.

"I don't know." Dan stares down at his lap. "I'm not okay. I don't know why I'm not okay. I don't know how to be okay." The last few words are slurred as more tears leak out. "I fucked everything up. Why am I like this?"

Phil's pulling him closer again, wrapping his arms around Dan and kissing his forehead. He pulls back slightly to give Dan some room, and waits patiently for him to continue.

"I don't know if I can be okay without the meds?" Dan continues, phrasing it like a question. He doesn't know anything right now. He needs someone to give him the answers. He rubs a hand through his curls, tugging frustratingly. "But I don't want to need them. I shouldn't need them anymore. Right?"

Phil takes a moment to respond. "I don't think there's a right answer, Dan. I think you need to do what's best for you." He pauses, rubbing Dan's thigh comfortingly and waiting for Dan to look at him again. "It's okay if that's what you need. It doesn't make you a failure."

Of course Phil knows exactly what Dan is thinking. Dan sniffles again, wiping at the stray tears leaking from his eyes. "But it _does_ make me a failure. This shouldn't be so hard."

"Dan," Phil sighs. 

He sounds sad. Or maybe just annoyed - but that's probably just Dan's stupid brain twisting things like always. Dan risks a peak at Phil's face, and is relieved to see it's sadness that he finds there, instead of annoyance or anger.

God, he's so selfish. Deep down, he knows he doesn't want Phil to be sad. He hates that he makes Phil sad. 

Phil's voice interrupts his thoughts. "You're amazing, you know that, right?"

Dan definitely doesn't know that. Not right now, at least.

"You're so fucking brave." Phil rarely swears. Only when he's feeling some type of strong emotion, whether it's rage at a video game, or extreme happiness, or frustration, or sadness. "You've done so well, love." Phil also rarely calls Dan love. Dan notices his voice sounds thick with emotion. Dan doesn't know what to feel right now. He thinks he feels loved, beneath the sadness and emptiness. "You have nothing to be ashamed about, I promise."

"I feel ashamed," Dan whispers, his voice cracking. "I feel like I should be better than this." 

"I know. That's the sickness talking." Phil smiles sadly at Dan. "It's going to be alright. We're going to get you through this, like the other times, yeah?" He pats Dan's thigh, then gives it a long squeeze.

"Yeah." Dan forces himself to smile back. He knows it doesn't reach his eyes. But he tries. He yawns, his body drained from lack of sleep and too many emotions for his body to contain.

Phil stands up and offers his hand out to Dan, and pulls him to his feet. He drops a quick kiss on Dan's cheek, then another chaste one on his lips.

"C'mon. We both need to get some sleep. We'll figure everything out tomorrow, see if we can give your therapist a call, okay?" Phil squeezes Dan's hand, and starts to lead him back downstairs to the bedroom. "We'll see what she thinks, and what you really want to do. Either way, it's going to be fine. I promise." They get into bed, and Phil curls up around Dan, squeezing tight. "I love you."

Dan nods. He's not convinced, but Phil sounds so sure. And he loves Dan. That is one thing Dan can make himself believe, can feel it in the warmth, the safety of Phil surrounding his entire body. Phil thinks it's going to be okay, that everything is going to work out. Maybe Dan can convince himself of that too. Maybe everything's going to be just fine.

**Author's Note:**

> (I wrote and edited this quickly, so if anyone notices any mistakes/typos, don't feel bad about letting me know)
> 
> Title from "End of an Era" by Marianas Trench


End file.
